Sunday, January 26, 2014

Jan 21: Pre-post scribble: *eyes narrowed down* in my usual you-dare-mess-with-me stare, I look at the laptop's screen but my mind's busy reminding me for the millionth time how futile that will be. Since when did things start happening depending on how you stare at them? Yep, you got it right: Never. -_-

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Jan 25: I wanted to write today, since after so long the day went awesome-awesome. At least it can be called awesome judging by the quality of life I lead these days. But just when I decided I would write, I did not want to write. I got rude with a best friend, just-like-that. :| I'm sorry dude, even though you said I wasn't rude (see, if it makes you smile wider, this even rhymes :P ).

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Jan 26: I can't even write more than a small paragraph at a stretch? Seriously, what is wrong with me? To top it all, I feel really pissed off. First, I'm feeling restless, not having written anything but feeling that itch inside to write. If I didn't feel like it, it would have been okay. But I feel like I'd calm down only if I write, ergo, I feel restless (yo bestie, now toh smile :D ). Second, I also feel angry at just living in a place where mental freedom is so hard to find. I mean!!! Why is there so much of stress around? Around useless things? I was fine about other people stressing over things, but now it's affecting me! It's almost as if it's become tangible and jumping out from people and latching onto me, and I do not want stress. I hate it. See? I'm even stressing over the fact I don't like stress. How stressful is that?

Pic credit: Dad

Third, it's taking all amounts of self-control and optimism to survive college. God bless those ikke dukke kids who have a sense of humor and in whose presence I actually feel like laughing. *Take deep breaths* Just two more months. Then, finally, freedom! Although I have to say, college did teach me a lot apart from studies. I'm sure if I survived this, I can survive a lot. 8|

Fourth, I feel helpless about a lot of things, including the fact that people don't understand people. It's kind of frustrating to see judgments passed through, about anyone, for anything. Why do we even care to comment on people? We never know where they're coming from. And this makes me mad because I used to be indifferent to this attitude, but now, I just find it hugely frustrating. Total piss-off material.

Fifth, we're studying different kinds of personalities in class. Turns out the terms we generally use for disorders are personality types, and each of us possesses some or the other traits and characteristics from them, most probably a mix of some types. Example, I could have some traits of a paranoid, and a schizoid and a narcissist. While it's interesting to study these types, as it definitely makes you more empathetic to people (if of course, you see it that way, instead of just mocking people in class based on characteristics described, like some people in my class do), it's also slightly going to stay in the back of your mind, continuously running like an open-in-the-background-app (err... what metaphors :P).

And it's hard to discuss it with family and friends, just because they might not understand or interpret it the way you do. But it has made me even more open to differences and I am simply wishing for everyone to start feeling like that, so there'll be more understanding and less of judging.

Sixth, I feel absolutely no inclination to do any assignment. Considering how this is the last sem, you'd think they'd make it easier. But not only are the subjects too boring, the assignments feel like such a ridiculous task thrust upon us and seriously, most of them actually make no sense. The previous trimesters sometimes even seemed remotely interesting, although I hardly liked the assignments unless they offered good learning potential, which the new ones absolutely do not. I've got assignments to submit tomorrow, but I feel irritable just thinking about those. Why couldn't I have done something interesting?

Seventh, I feel weird too, mostly because I'm feeling more selfish than I've ever been in my life. Not in terms of materialism, but just not feeling enough empathy for those who're sad. It's like I'm so drained myself that I'm barely staying afloat, so logically, that makes sense. How can I worry about the world when I'm feeling irritable and restless myself? Although it's not that much, but things that are disturbing bring in a feeling of restlessness rather than sadness. Not every time, of course. For family and friends, you don't even feel like it's a burden or separate from you. But when it's about the rest of them, right now, I don't want to listen to them.

Eighth, I really wish Mr. Freud wrote his book in an easier-to-read language! I really want to understand and interpret dreams, not that I don't have any idea. And I don't really want to read Mr. Freud's interpretations either, but still. At this moment, any form of understanding is a welcome prospect. My dreams have turned more vivid and more close to real life, so unlike earlier. It's like all those things I don't like, come together to life in an illustrated form. Weird, weird, weird!

Ninth, what I really wanted to write this blogpost on, when I titled it 'floating in the depths' was about how I've always found myself so into things, especially feelings. Till about a year ago when I still had the time (and inclination) for it, I used to look up stuff related to sun signs and feel happy about the awesome things that matched. One of the things I read was about how we tend to think about the deeper mysteries of life more closely than other people. No wonder, since thinking keeps me occupied most of the time. But I have an aversion to thinking about sad stuff. I don't read sad stories (exceptions aside), I don't like sad music, and I feel like hugging sad people. Why is there sadness in the first place? But going through it myself, I also know that time takes care of it when nothing else can. You just need to have patience. O:)

But anyway, I do like things with deep meanings. Hidden meanings. Reading between the lines. Clues that link back to something said previously. I love kids' books and stories so much, simply because when they're about to end, they come up with beautiful interpretations of the whole story and a deeper meaning is brought out. Like a few days ago I watched Madagascar on TV (Escape to Africa) and I couldn't help feeling awed at the underlying theme: they think a lion is not a lion if it can't fight. Alakay (Alex) is a dancing lion who lived in New York and finally found himself back to his parents in the jungle. When his dad Zuba dismisses him because he could not fight, it brought a sense of frustration we know so well. Tight societal norms. And in the end it's Alex's dancing (apart from the lion-ic spirit, of course) that saves them from maniac New Yorkers stranded in the jungle. Same is the case with Heidi, the TV cartoon I absolutely watched full of emotion even as a kid! I read the book recently and saw how it talks so politely about people, even those who're mean with such a sense of fairness that it makes you think about the way you think about people!

Finally, I really want to know. Is there a God up above who takes into account the manners and goodness people have? I've been so full of confidence about good people having the best of all that I turned a blind eye to little things that were unfair to me, even though I do try to be good. I don't really want to lose faith in Him, but it seems like being good has little use. It's like no one expects you to be good and they assume you're just putting up an act. How shattering is that? The chant seem to get it all, and you're a plain loser. It makes me angry, but well, I do believe it matters more to your own conscience. Just that outwardly sometimes you wish you weren't so misunderstood.

That's all for now! I'm reading okay these days, so that's a nice plus. I'm into the third book of the Vampire Academy series and it's a nice feeling to read about smart-ass vamps and dhampirs. Thank God for books. They make all the difference between getting crazy and sanity!

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

It’s kind of expected (by
readers as well as the writers) to make a welcoming-of-the-new-year post,
especially if they’ve been seeing it in the past, like in the case of this
blog. I had it planned, but one thing that even my optimistic self would accept
is that life is very very uncertain. However much you hate change, it is the
only constant (that clichéd line again, yes) and you reach a point where you *finally*
stop running away from it. It is never easy to embrace change. In fact, it is
the hardest thing I find, something I hate doing, something that makes me fear
that my whole life is on a change trajectory, something that makes me extremely
uncomfortable only because I love my comfort zone. But anyway, I understand
that when you try too much to escape, it only builds in magnitude and later comes
crashing down on you. And then it hurts a lot.

I understand that not
everything will be perfect. You may want it to be, you may hate the
imperfections, but it just isn’t “supposed” to be perfect, because then we
wouldn’t have anything to work for and we’d stop being human.

Even if you’re an optimist with
an ever-ready “it’s okay” at the tip of your tongue, there will be some
problems to which you can’t reply with those words. You will yourself get into
situations and feelings where these words would sound useless. And really, you
just have to accept the fact that some things in life are just not okay and
sometimes you just have to live with it. It can’t always be okay-ish and
happy-ish, because some things would inevitably hurt, even if you’re an
escapist or a protect-ist. This ridiculously pessimist-sounding stuff would
catch up with you, no matter what.

Once an Indian, always an
Indian. And always being plagued by some kinds of Indianness and mindset, no
matter how you want it to be. Even if you run away to live in another country,
you’d still be haunted by stupid things associated with being an Indian. Even if
your whole family is awesome, you’d still have problems, because with Indians,
you can’t be just “you”. You have to look at the whole society, culture,
customs and all those things you actually respect, but they don’t necessarily
return the favour. How dare you even think about just yourself? You have to
live according to superficial rules, or else you’re a dark blot on the society
and no one would ever love your family again. *Wishing she could have been a gareeb
angrez instead*

Pic credit: Me

I understand that I won’t
understand everything (even though I am quite amazing when it comes to
understanding, but still) and it’s foolish to feel bad about not ‘getting it’. Also,
I’m not a social being. I can focus on just a few people outside my own self at
a given time, and trying to add more people into it just causes problems for
me. As an experimental thing, I deactivated my Facebook account recently, just
for a while, and although there isn’t enough evidence to prove it, I think
there is somehow a correlation between my happy nature and switching that
source of interaction off. For one, I can focus more on “my” things (reading,
writing, thinking, crafting, talking to people who’re close to me). Secondly, I
am not in contact with other people’s lives as much. Do I really need to know
what 300 something of my FB friends are up to? I really don’t have that much
of time. I used to scoff at those who deactivated accounts, but now? Not so
much. I see how it can reduce the level of noise in your life. And sometimes,
you just need silence.

I understand that I don’t have
any ‘blog-obligations’. Y’know, like to make a New Year post (however much I
had wanted to), making a certain number of posts a month, keeping away from
openly writing about feelings, etc. In fact, when I read one of my favourite columnists,
Natasha Badhwar, talking about writing about feelings and experiences and your
own stories, I’m even more open to them! Consider this line that makes you go “Ohhh
yess!!”

“The struggle to express is a struggle to heal”

I’ve been having trouble
writing since the past few months, not because I suddenly don’t know how to
write, but simply because I mostly write on stuff drawn from experience, and at
that time, I didn’t quite know how to deal with myself, I was trying to heal
and hence, struggling with expressing.

“The power to write
your own story will come to you when you give up the fear that your truth will
somehow hurt you”

Really. Why don’t we write
about things that hurt us? What we learned from it, or rather, how much we hate
it? Because we try to ignore the truth, we don’t acknowledge it, we turn into
escapists. That is why.

And oh yes, I also understand
how cool it is when you can get this idea from a cool friend to write posts in
a font you prefer. ;)